Of Cake and Candlesticks
by catty-cat-cat
Summary: Human!AU. Francis had learned long ago that he should never let Gilbert blow his birthday candles. Ever. Birthday fic for France. New author, first one-shot fic, no flames. RnR?


**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

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The doorbell rang for a few times, prompting the ever-so-busy Mrs. Bonnefoï to scurry out of the kitchen to the front door. Mr. Bonnefoï wasn't home until six (a busy man he was), so that left her and her sweet little son in the house. And since her son was still in his room doing who-knows-what, she had to greet her guests, if the sounds of several pairs of feet weren't anything to go by.

Mrs. Bonnefoï opened the double doors, revealing two adults and two little boys, no more than four years old. She smiled. " _Bonjour_ , _Monsieur_ Beilschmidt, _Madame_ Carriedo," she greeted.

Mr. Beilschmidt nodded stiffly with a polite smile. " _Guten tag_ , _Frau_ Bonnefoï," he greeted back. He then turned to his young son, who stared at him with a curious look. "Say hello to your friend's mother, Gilbert."

The little Beilschmidt boy, who strangely had white hair and red eyes, flashed a smile to his father and faced Mrs. Bonnefoï with a cocky grin. " _Guten tag_ , _Frau_ Bonnefoï! My name's Gilbert Beilschmidt, the awesome!"

Mrs. Bonnefoï chuckled while Gilbert's father frowned at him. The woman beside Mr. Beilschmidt smiled warmly as their host turned at her. " _Buenas tardes_ , _Se_ _ñ_ _ora_ Bonnefoï," she greeted. She then turned to her boy with a smile.

The tanned boy with dark hair and green eyes nodded with a big smile. " _Buenas tardes_ , _T_ _í_ _a_ Bonnefoï! My name is Antonio Fernàndez Carriedo!" he stated.

Mrs. Bonnefoï smiled warmly as she stepped out of the doorway to let the two families enter. "Why don't you come in? I've made us some snacks and biscuits, and a cake for _mon petite fils_ ," she said.

Gilbert beamed. "Will we get to eat cake?!" he asked enthusiastically.

"Gilbert, behave yourself," Mr. Beilschmidt warned him sternly.

"Of course you will," Mrs. Bonnefoï said to the albino boy with a smile. "You all will. Now why don't you boys go to Francis' room upstairs? I bet he's all alone, and I want you two to accompany him. Your mother and father will be with me preparing the cake and other snacks. You three can go to the backyard when we call."

"Yes!" Gilbert exclaimed, fist pumping the air. "Come on, Toni!" He grabbed the Spaniard boy's hand and pulled him to the stairs with him.

"Gilbert, don't do anything funny!" Mr. Beilschmidt said as the two boys ascended the stairs.

"Be careful, _ni_ _ñ_ _o_!" Mrs. Carriedo reminded her son just before the two disappeared from the sight with a faint, " _s_ _ì_ , _mam_ _á_!"

Gilbert quickly ascended the stairs which looked huge for his small feet, so he staggered a bit at the mid-way. Antonio tried to keep up with his friend, all the while also tried to keep his balance so he wouldn't fell from the stairs. "Gil, slow down!" he shrieked when he barely step on the umpteenth step and Gilbert still pulled him up.

Finally they arrived on the second floor. Gilbert let go of Antonio's hand and quickly approached the first door he saw, which was their friend's bedroom. Gilbert reached out for the knob, standing on his toes while doing so. He twisted it and swung it open proudly as if he owned the room.

The room was quite large and painted in light blue, with a big cupboard and a bookshelf on a vacant wall, a shelf full of toys and dolls, a chest which contained block game and other bigger toys placed in front of a spring bed, and a small desk placed beside it. There was a wide window above the bed, with the magenta-colored curtains pulled up. On the spring bed, coloring a book with scattered crayons was a small boy with shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair.

At the sight of the blonde child, Gilbert immediately ran across the room as he exclaimed, "Francis!" and he jumped onto the bed.

" _Aiee_!" the blonde boy shrieked at the move. He stared at his book with wide-eyes before glaring daggers at the albino beside him, who was grinning ear to ear. "Gil, look what you've done! You ruined my beautiful drawing!"

"Drawings are stupid and unawesome—they're for girls! C'mon, let's play!" Gilbert waved the accident off and pulled Francis' hands in attempt to get him out of the bed.

" _Non_! You ruined my drawings!" Francis insisted, trying to keep still in position with his hands being pulled by his friend.

"Come on, Franny! You know it's a stupid drawing!" Gilbert reasoned, still trying to pull Francis out of the bed.

In the middle of the commotion, Antonio successfully sneaked behind the two and sat at Francis' other side, peering at the coloring book. The little Spaniard smiled. "It's really good, Francis! You only have to add blue above this one," Antonio praised, pointing at the ruined part of the coloring.

Francis immediately focused on Antonio and yanked his hands out of Gilbert's, resulting the albino fell on his butt on the carpeted floor. "You really think so?" Francis asked, his blue eyes sparkling, full of hope.

Antonio nodded. " _Sì_!"

After a few minutes of the two discussing the proper colors of the coloring and Gilbert grumbling under his breath on the floor, Antonio finally convinced Francis to pull out his block game. Succeeding in persuading Gilbert to join, they played on the carpeted floor. Francis and Antonio would build a fortress for their imaginary kingdom out of blocks. Gilbert would be the knight who protected the imaginary kingdom from enemies, so he took every toy from the shelf and made them his soldiers, much to Francis' dismay. But he shrugged it off when Gilbert stated that it would be 'unawesome' for a knight to not have an army, so he only warned the albino to put the toys back in the shelf when they were done playing. And then a new problem rose.

None of the three wanted to be the enemy.

When neither of them volunteered, Gilbert would bluntly choose either Antonio or Francis to be the enemy—because he already became the imaginary kingdom's knight and he said it would be 'unawesome' for a knight to be an enemy. Francis of course didn't want to, and he said that he was the birthday boy so he should be the king of the imaginary kingdom. So that left Antonio alone to be the enemy, as he didn't have any reason not to.

Just as Antonio's army was about to win against Gilbert's, and just as the Spaniard was about to stab the German albino with a fake sword—a certain French boy would sit there and watch behind the small fortress—their parents called. Francis and Antonio cheered and scurried out downstairs while Gilbert groaned, said that they were about to reach the climax of their story, and trailing behind them.

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"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you~"

Francis' dark blue eyes widened in glee as his mother brought a rather large piece of cake on a plastic plate in front of him—the rest of the cake was still in the kitchen. Standing on the cake was a candle with the shape of number 5, the fuse lit up with a small flame.

The three families were now on the patio at the backyard. The three adults sang a birthday song—actually, the mothers were the ones who sang, while the only father was standing there with a smile—while Mrs. Bonnefoï gave Francis the piece of cake. The blonde boy was giggling as he waited for their parents to finish the song. Gilbert and Antonio sat at Francis' either side, looking so eager to eat the cake.

"Make a wish, _cherie_ ," Mrs. Bonnefoï said the moment the song was finished.

Francis nodded and closed his eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath, intending to blow the candle. This was where the problem started. He couldn't blow the candle off despite how many attempts he had tried. The small flame would only vibrate a little, then back to its fuse, crackling as if mocking the boy for his poor blowing skill.

Francis frowned at the candle, before blowing again. And once again, the flame was still in place. Finally he faced his mother with an exasperated look. " _Maman_ , the candle is naughty!" Francis cried as he pointed at the candle. His two friends were laughing and giggling at his both sides.

"It's okay, _ma cherie_ ," his mother said with a kind smile. "Try again."

At this, Gilbert turned to Francis. "Want me to help you with it?" he asked.

" _Non_! This is my birthday!" Francis snapped, bringing the cake further from Gilbert.

"Awe, come on! Let me blow your candle!" Gilbert insisted as he attempted to stand on his chair, ignoring his father's demand to sit back.

"This is my candle to blow! You go away!" Francis retorted as he scooted away from Gilbert's chair.

"Come on, just let me help you!" Gilbert said, finally leaning over to try grabbing Francis' cake.

The two continued to quarrel, ignoring Antonio who watched in confusion and the innocent piece of cake which was placed—accidentally or coincidentally—in front of him. Antonio looked at the cake, then at the two beside him—Francis' mother tried to stop the fight and Gilbert's father was fuming—then looked at the cake again. After a moment, he shrugged before blowing the candle off.

This earned a chuckle from Mrs. Carriedo. "Oh, _ni_ _ñ_ _o_ , don't be like that next time, _sì_?" she said.

Antonio just grinned, excited at the fact that he had just blown a candle off. He then turned to his quarreling friends. "Hey, _amigos_ , stop fighting!" he said. "Look, I've blown the candle off!" he then brought the cake in front of the two, which sadly was ignored.

The quarreling lasted for a few minutes, with Gilbert yanking Francis' hair and the latter grabbing the former's shirt and pulled it tightly. The two parents and Antonio—the Spaniard's poor mother was unsure of what to do—tried their best to stop the fight, to no avail. It was before Gilbert accidentally elbowed the forgotten cake in front of him, resulting the cake falling from its plate and splattered all around the table.

Upon the sound of the falling cake, the duo immediately stopped their fight. Gilbert and Francis instantly turned their heads to the source of the sound, and spotted the ruined cake on the table.

"Oh, no," Antonio muttered, rather innocently. "The cake fell, _mam_ _á_ ," he said to his mother, who had a surprised look on her face.

Francis let go of his grip on the albino's hair and stared at his ruined cake with wide eyes, his face unreadable. Recognizing this symptom very well, Mrs. Bonnefoï became concerned and approached her son. "Oh, _ma_ _cherie_ , it's okay. We can make a new cake—"

As if on cue, Francis' dark blue eyes were tearing up and he bawled like a five-year-old would.

Seeing this, Antonio felt bad for his friend as he was lifted up by his mother. " _Mam_ _á_ , Francis is crying," he said.

"Gilbert," Mr. Beilschmidt called sternly, "we're going to have a little talk, young man."

The albino, who was also surprised at the ruined cake and the crying Francis, frowned in annoyance as he got down from his chair, following his father.

Francis, still crying, brought a fist to wipe his tears. His mother lifted him up and patted him on the back, whispering comforts to his ears. Antonio watched his friend crying on his mother's shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel guilty. After all, he was the one who brought the cake in front of them from the first.

And so, the ruined birthday party ended with Gilbert being scolded by his father, Francis crying, and Antonio feeling bad for the whole situation.

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20 years later ...

Paris, France.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, its alarm waking him up. Francis cracked an eye, then rubbed both of his eyes, and brought a hand to reach for his phone. Clicking on the snooze button involuntarily, he dropped his hand on the bed, staring at the ceiling sleepily. It was Saturday, and there was nothing important he had to do, other than doing laundry and stuffs. It was still early, anyway. He yawned, and was about to continue to sleep when the bedroom door suddenly slammed open with a loud bang.

"Happy birthday, Francis!" two men who were on the doorway shouted, one of them holding a birthday cake on a tray. On the cake were two candles, one of them shaped number 2, and the other shaped number 5.

Francis flinched at the loud bang and the shout, and he immediately sat up to see the intruders. " _Que se passe-t-il_ ...?" he mumbled sleepily, annoyed at the loud noises.

"Hey, c'mon! Don't be in such a sour mood," the white haired man, Gilbert said, cracking a grin. "You of all people sure know what day this is!"

Francis frowned in annoyance. " _Ce que le diable parlez-vous?_ " he mumbled as he lifted his phone up, clicking a button. Upon inspection, his eyes lit up as he turned to his two friends who were already approaching his bed.

" _Sì_ , Francis! This is your birthday!" Antonio confirmed with a smile, the tray was still in his hands.

Francis stared at his friends for a while. "But you don't have to barge into my bedroom so early in the morning," he said disapprovingly.

"Blame Gil; he always looks for sensation in every birthday," Antonio tilted his head towards Gilbert, who grinned when the blonde Frenchman glared at him.

"Hey, I was sending some warnings to you. It's not my fault that you're not reading it," Gilbert said airily.

Francis again lifted his phone up, checking his inbox. Sure enough, he found several of Gilbert's messages containing a happy birthday, a surprise plan, and some warnings to prepare. His blue eyes twitched, and he stared at the German albino with a look. "You expect me to read your messages _in the midnight_?"

Gilbert only lifted up his thumb with a grin.

"Anyway," Antonio said before the fight ensued, "happy birthday, Francis!"

" _Ja_ , we made this cake!"

"Specially for you!" Antonio brought the tray of cake on Francis' bed, in front of him.

"Make a wish, _dummkopf_!" Gilbert teased, earning a playful hit on his shoulder.

Francis bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment. He then proceeded to take a breath, but before he could blow the two candles, Gilbert leaned on Francis.

"Want me to help you with those?" he asked with a grin, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Francis, recognizing that sentence, glared daggers at him in return. "Don't you even dare," he muttered through his gritted teeth.

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 _Fin_

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 **A/N:**

 **Ahaha, lame story is lame.**

 **Hello, everyone. I'm a new author here, and this is my first published story in Hetalia fandom, and a one-shot at that. I'm a big fan on BTT, and I adore France. I'm a bit nervous on how this would turn to be, but decide to just go with it. As I said, this is my first published Hetalia fic in Hetalia fandom, so please be easy on me.**

 **I was watching a program in my TV, and then it broadcast a bunch of video about toddlers and a failed birthday party. So this was born. It was cute when I imagined little Francis, little Gilbert, and little Antonio, all gathered around, celebrating a birthday party. And yeah, this is a gift fic for France, whose birthday is on 14th July. Happy Bastille Day, France! XD**

 **Translations (These all are from Google Translate, so correct me if I'm wrong):**

 _Bonjour_ (French): hello

 _Guten tag_ (German): good afternoon

 _Buenas tardes_ (Spanish): good afternoon

 _Frau_ (German): Mrs.

 _Tía_ (Spanish): aunt

 _Mon petite fils_ (French): my little son

 _Niño_ (Spanish): boy

 _Cherie_ (French): dear, darling

 _Que se passe-t-il ...?_ (French): what the hell ...?

 _Ce que le diable parlez-vous?_ (French): what the heck are you talking about?

 **Uh, okay. I think that's all. I accept no flames, except for concrit.**

 **RnR, please?**


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